


Spanish Fly

by wede_fic (frahulettaes)



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-09
Updated: 2005-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frahulettaes/pseuds/wede_fic
Summary: Fic: Spanish FlyNov. 11th, 2006 01:43 pmTitle: Spanish FlyAuthor: wedePairing: Viggo/OrlandoRating: MatureWarning: schmoopSummary: happy birthday, vig.Email: fra_hulettaes@yahoo.comoriginally posted in 2005 for Viggo's birthday to: vigorli, carefullykissed, orlandoslash, and vigorli yahoo group.Fiction only, not a fact in sight.no beta, as usual.
Relationships: Orlando Bloom/Viggo Mortensen





	Spanish Fly

His pocket rang. He patted his pants pockets, front and back, jacket pockets, right hip, left hip, breast, ah, there it was.

"Hello?"

"Happy birthday, old man." Orlando said.

He smiled his big, genuine, natural smile as if Orlando could see it and a shiver started in his inner ear and worked it's way down to his toes and back.

"Hey, Sunshine." He said and turned away from David and went back through the lobby to the relative quiet of the bar.

"I miss you." Orlando said, voice low and husky, his morning voice, night voice, sex voice. Viggo's toes curled.

"God, yeah. Where are you?" He looked at his watch. Nearly one a.m. in Spain. "You sleeping? You sound like it."

"Hmmm, no. Just laying here, talking to you. Sounds like a party, did I call at a bad time? I can call," Orlando stopped mid sentence.

"Yeah, I'd like to see that and no, the party's almost done. I'm in the bar at the," he looked around for the hotel name and failed to find it. "I don’t' know, somewhere in Spain. I'm exhausted." He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished he could crawl through the phone line. "Wish I could crawl through the line and into you. Yeah, that's what I want."

Orlando snorted softly.

"I wish you could, too. Not exactly our best birthday effort. I will make it up to you, though, I promise." Orlando's voice dropped another register, the closest to a growl Viggo'd heard.

"Damn, you sound like sin. Are you on your cell?" He asked.

"Yeah." Orlando replied.

"Let me call you from the room. I want to enjoy my birthday call, okay?" He escaped the bar and began the walk to the bank of elevators as he talked.

"Oh, yeah. I'll be here. Waiting." Orlando whispered and cut the call.

Viggo walked with renewed energy the length of the hotel lobby to the enormous brass edifice of elevators. He punched the button and patted the phone in his pocket, like a totem or good luck charm. Finally the door opened, the lift emptied and he swung in and punched his floor number.

Again he searched his pockets, patting them for his keycard, shifting his weight and wishing the lift would go faster.

Doors opened, long hallway rolled away from his feet and he was walking again. Did this hallway get longer? He thinks. Turns left and another length of carpeted tunnel and then right, two doors, three and there. He palms the phone out, flips it open and searches for redail while snapping the cardkey through the lock.

Orlando's phone rings and it's odd because some other phone is ringing at the same time near by.

"Hello?" Orlando says.

"What are you wearing?" He says.

"Why don't you come in here and see for yourself, old man." Says Orlando and then ends the call.

Viggo stands in his own doorway for several long seconds, phone to his ear, shocked to immobility. Here? The phone ringing nearby. Orlando waiting for him. And he's moving, phone forgotten, dropped jacket, steps moving across the impossibly large parlor to the closed double bedroom doors.

He throws them open without stopping, shirt open, belt half off, on the bed Orlando is laying on his back, propped on a line of expensive Egyptian cotton cased feather pillows the dim wall sconce light playing across his cheek, shoulder and belly.

"Oh, god." He says and crawls across the long expanse of bed up the long loose limbs until, chest to chest he can chase every sound Orlando makes with his tongue. He inhales gloriously, deeply, profoundly. Breaks the kiss and says, "You smell fantastic." And he rolls so Orlando is laying across his chest, eyes dark, cheeks and lips flushed pink.

Orlando smiles at him and says nothing but kisses and touches and makes good on his promise.

~end~


End file.
